The Spy and the Secret
by Kate1221
Summary: A nighttime trip through the castle in search of her DADA books has left Hermione privy to a rather personal conversation between Dumbledore and Snape, and now she must deal with the consequences of her actions.
1. A Nighttime Trip

_AN: This story hints at SS/HG. If you feel you might be put off by this pairing, I advise you to turn back now and find another fanfic to read._

_Having said that, enjoy reading the story._

* * *

_Chapter One_

The whole castle appeared to be alive tonight.

Shadows danced in the dim light emanating from her wand, things seemed to move behind the many suits of armour, and once or twice Hermione could have sworn she'd heard someone whisper.

It was way past curfew, and as such the corridors were deserted. Several portraits glared at her disapprovingly as she passed them by, but she paid them no heed. She desperately wished to sneak through the castle unnoticed by any of the teachers – it wouldn't do much for her reputation. No, all she wanted was to find Snape and then head back to the cosy Gryffindor common room.

Hermione shivered and pulled her robes tighter around herself, silently damning her situation. It hadn't been her fault Snape had become so frustrated with Harry and Ron's behaviour he had sent the boys – and her along with them – hurrying out of his classroom. It hadn't been her fault she left her books in the confusion. And it certainly wasn't as though she _wanted _to be writing that eleven inches long Defense Against the Dark Arts essay she needed those books for. If only Snape had been in the dungeons, where he was supposed to be! Then she wouldn't have had to sneak to the DADA classroom in the ridiculous hope she would find the Professor there.

Her silent tirade was interrupted by a fleeting whisper. There was no doubt she'd heard it this time – people were conversing nearby.

She quietly made her way to the corner, towards the source of the noise. The whispers got louder as she neared. She could hear familiar voices, and fragments of a conversation.

'You can't honestly expect me to do this, Headmaster ...'

'You have to, or do you wish for...'

She dared to peek around the corner. Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape were standing just down the hallway, deeply immersed in conversation.

'I won't do it,' Snape snapped. 'Your request is unreasonable. I will not murder you.'

'Now, now, my boy,' Dumbledore spoke soothingly, 'I will die sometime in the near future anyway – you can hardly call fulfilling this litte ... _favour _murder.'

'Well,' spoke Snape, and his whole body was trembling with the force of his suppressed anger, 'I'd rather you didn't die at _my _hand.'

'But Severus ...'

Intrigued by the conversation, Hermione found herself leaning forward, hoping to hear more. Unfortunately, in doing so she lost her footing, causing her to trip and fall against a suit of armour. With a lot of noise and destruction, she found herself lying at the teachers' feet.

'Well, well,' she heard Snape's silky voice above her head. 'It seems we have an intruder. What exactly are you doing out of your bed and eavesdropping on discussions that do not concern you, Miss Granger?'

She hastily scrambled up and stared at the two Professors, her mind working top-speed as she wondered what to say. Snape was observing her impatiently, his trademark scowl etched on his face. Dumbledore however, seemed to have a strange twinkle in his piercing blue eyes. She took a deep breath and decided to tell the truth.

'I left my Defense Against the Dark Arts books in the classroom earlier today. I looked for Professor Snape in the dungeons, but I failed to locate him.'

'And so you decided to go sneaking through the castle?' inquired Snape. His eyes had a dangerous gleam to them.

'Only because I was looking for you!' she attempted to defend herself.

'Ten points from Gryffindor for breaking the curfew without good reason,' Snape sneered.

'But I was - '

'I advise you to be quiet, Miss Granger, unless you wish to lose more points.'

'Come, Severus, don't be too harsh on her,' said Dumbledore. 'I am certain Miss Granger had the very best intentions.'

'That doesn't excuse her from eavesdropping on private conversations!' At this Snape turned turned towards her and gave her a furious glare. 'How much have you heard?'

Hermione was having an inner debate on what she should tell both Professors. She strongly disliked lying, but in the current situation it might be her best option.

Some of her inner conflict must have shown on her face, for Snape barked: 'And don't you even think about lying, because I will know when you do!' Well, that made the decision easy.

'I heard you refuse to murder Professor Dumbledore,' she admitted, glancing over at the Headmaster, who, she noticed, was smiling faintly. 'I also heard Professor Dumbledore say he was already dying, which leads me to believe he wants to use his death to get you in favour with You-Know-Who,' she rattled.

Snape looked as though he was about to explode, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore beat him to it.

'That is quite correct, Miss Granger. Of course, no one can know about this, or we risk the Dark Lord finding out where Severus' loyalties really lie.'

'Which is why I suggest erasing this event from Miss Granger's mind now,' Snape snarled. 'Before she runs off and tells those two dunderheads.' Hermione tried not to be insulted by his words.

'Severus!' Dumbledore exclaimed. 'That is against our school rules! That course of action is entirely out of the question. I will not allow it.'

'But we can hardly let her go now that she has witnessed all this. Surely you realize that, Headmaster.'

'I am certain Miss Granger won't tell a soul,' Dumbledore spoke gently. 'It may have escaped your notice, but she is a very bright and trustworthy witch, Severus. Our secret will be more than safe with her.'

'Safe!' Snape bellowed, and Hermione could see he was positively furious now. 'She won't be able to ward off even the weakest attack on her mind! It won't take the Dark Lord more than a second to unravel her deepest secrets!'

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on her feet as Dumbledore and Snape argued. She was not entirely certain what was worse; having part of her memory erased or carrying the heavy burden of the truth just revealed to her.

'Well,' Dumbledore said, and she startled slightly. She had almost forgotten the argument wasn't over yet. 'In that case you will have to teach her Occlumency, Severus.' Dumbledore's words were followed by a long silence. Snape looked baffled, and she herself wasn't much better off.

'What?' Snape breathed at last. 'I am to teach this ... this ... _know-it-all _Occlumency?'

'Mind your words, Severus,' Dumbledore calmly replied.

'What has gotten into you?' Snape snapped. 'Don't you recall what happened the last time you ordered me to teach a student Occlumency?'

Hermione swallowed painfully. She remembered Harry's recollections of his evenings with Snape only too well.

'I do, but I am confident things will turn out better this time,' Dumbledore insisted. Snape appeared beyond himself with anger.

'Confident as you may be, I refuse to teach another dunderhead. It would be a waste of my time at best.'

'Severus...'

Snape had balled his hands into fists and appeared to fight back the urge to attack Dumbledore. 'No, Headmaster! I am not your puppet, don't treat me as such!' He threw Dumbledore a hateful look and stalked off into the darkness. Hermione was left behind with the Headmaster. Silence fell.

'Well,' the Dumbledore finally spoke, 'I regret you had to witness that. For now, please retreat to your rooms, Miss Granger. We will address this matter in the morning.'

Hermione found herself simply standing there, staring at the Headmaster. How could he so easily dismiss her after all the fuss he and Snape had made about her presence just minutes before? She realized she was gaping, but was somehow unable to do anything else, as her body seemed to have failed her. Dumbledore gave her an encouraging nod, and she at last managed to make her unwilling limbs obey.

'Goodnight, Professor,' she mumbled, before turning around and walking away from the corridor. Confusion clouded her mind. _What on Earth was going on at Hogwarts?_

_

* * *

_

_AN: Yes, the beginning of this fanfic is rather cliché, as I am well aware. Nevertheless, I will try my best to make this story as interesting as possible (and yes, I do have several plot twists planned : ) ). I thoroughly enjoy writing this fic, and I hope that you, my readers, will enjoy reading it._

_Reviews make me happy._


	2. Madness

_Chapter Two_

A pale and tired-looking Hermione joined her two best friends at the breakfast table the next morning. Neither of the boys acknowledged her presence: Ron was too busy devouring a huge meal, and Harry was rubbing his scar absent-mindedly, seemingly in a different world altogether. She sighed and reached out for a piece of toast. It was then that Ron noticed her.

'Hermione!' he exclaimed, his mouth still filled with food. It made for a rather unpleasant sight. Harry had looked up at Ron's words, and was now staring at her.

'Ron,' she returned his greeting, before spreading some marmalade on her toast. Harry frowned.

'What's up with you, Hermione?' he inquired, his green eyes still resting on her face. 'You look like you haven't slept all night.' Ah. Harry was more perceptive than he usually let on. She was about to open her mouth and recount the events of the previous night, when she remembered what Snape had said about her running off and telling the boys immediately. It wouldn't do to live up to his expectations this easily. She clenched her jaw shut and formulated an evasive reply in her head.

'You're quite right,' she spoke at length, bringing the toast to her mouth. 'I couldn't sleep and took a walk through the castle.' There. That was as close to the truth as she was going to get. Ron groaned.

'So instead of helping us with Snape's essay, you decided to go off and sneak through the corridors?' Ron's question almost made her drop her toast. Shit. Snape's essay. The very reason she had gotten into this mess, and still she hadn't finished it.

'The essay! I completely forgot about it!' She felt herself panicking. It wasn't like her not to finish her homework – in fact, it had only occurred once before, in their second year. She'd been so busy browsing through various books in the library that she had completely forgotten about her Charms assignment until it was too late. Flitwick had let her off the hook. It was out of the question that Snape would as well.

'You forgot about the essay?' Harry was staring at her openly, not even attempting to hide his shock.

'Hermione!' Of course Ron had something to say on the matter as well. 'How could you? This is Snape we're talking about! And defense class is the first thing this morning, you won't have a chance to write that essay!'

'I know, Ron!' she snapped, frustrated. She rose from her chair, her breakfast forgotten on the table. She was unwilling to put up another second with Harry's blatant staring and Ron's exasperating statements.

'Where are you going?' Harry asked, looking at her befuddled.

'To Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course! I'll try to explain to Snape – '

'Explain to Snape?' Ron stammered. 'Blimey, Hermione, what has gotten into you?' She sighed, picked up her bag from the floor and stormed out of the Great Hall, leaving the boys for what they were.

She knew Snape had to be in the classroom already. His chair had been empty at breakfast, and it was just like him to set up his lesson way in advance. As such she was completely confident when she knocked on the door to the classroom and waited for Snape's reply. And knocked again. There came no answer. She rolled her eyes. Of course, precisely today he chose not to arrive early. Now she would have to face embarassment in front of the whole class. A partly Slytherin class, at that. She sighed and leaned against the cold wall, waiting for the rest of the class to arrive.

Just ten minutes later several of her classmates showed up, and after a few moments she was joined by Harry and Ron.

'I take it he's not there yet, then?' Harry quietly inquired. She gave him a faint nod. Ron, oblivious to her distress (or at least not able to place himself in her position; he, of course, constantly failed to hand in essays), chattered happily away about Quidditch. All the while she felt a sinking feeling in her chest just thinking about the punishment Snape would give her. What would it be? Writing endless lines? Attempt to bicker years of filth off the table surfaces? Scrubbing cauldrons with a toothbrush?

She grinned inwardly as she remembered Snape wasn't their Potions Master anymore. Well, no scrubbing cauldrons then. Still, that was hardly a reassurance. Knowing Snape, he'd be able to come up with something way worse than that.

Snape choose that exact moment to show up for their class. He swept past the masses of terrified students, taking off points for things such as 'looking the wrong way' as he went along. He reached the front of the group within moments, and swiftly unlocked the door.

'Inside!' he barked. The students rushed to obey his order, unwilling to provoke his anger. Settling down at her usual table near the front of the class, Hermione realized she would not only fail to hand in her essay: she still didn't have her books either. Nor did Harry and Ron. They looked decidedly less troubled by this fact than she was, though, as she watched them take the tables to her right. Harry sat twiddling with his thumbs, Ron was once again rambling about Quidditch. All around them students were still taking their books out of their bags. Snape was standing at the front of the class, observing them with a dangerous glint in his eye. She decided it was time to face her demons.

'Professor?' she asked, raising her hand. Snape raised an eyebrow.

'What is it, Miss Granger?' His voice was cold as usual, and she felt the knot in her chest tighten.

'Professor – I don't have my books, sir. And I haven't finished my essay either,' she blurted out.

He stalked over to her table and stood, looming over her. She felt positively terrified.

'And why is that, Miss Granger?' he drawled. She bit her lip, cursing Snape inside her head. He knew damn well why she hadn't finished her essay.

'I – I left my books here yesterday. As did Harry and Ron.'

'I believe Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are perfectly able to speak for themselves,' Snape sneered. 'Ten points from Gryffindor each, for lack of careful handling of your materials. And detention for you Miss Granger, for failing to hand in your essay. Tonight, in my office.' She swallowed. This wasn't fair. It was only the first time she had neglected to hand in anything to Snape, and he was already giving her detention for it.

'But Professor-'

'And a further five points from Gryffindor for speaking out of place, Miss Granger. I advise you to stay quiet now.' She glanced at Harry and Ron, but they only shot her helpless looks. So much for being best friends.

'As it so happens,' Snape continued, 'I have your books here. You would do well however to look more carefully after them next time.' He flicked his wand and the books came flying from across the room, landing neatly on their tables. Snape walked away from the trio and began the lesson, but Hermione found that she could not bring up enough concentration to listen.

*****

How she managed to quietly sit through all of the lesson while she was boiling with anger inside, Hermione never knew. What she did know was that she had never been more grateful to leave a class. She'd stormed out of the room the second the lesson ended (_with _her books this time, thank you very much) and Harry and Ron were struggling to keep up with her.

'The git!' she spat at no one in particular. 'How dare he assign me detention for failing to hand in one single essay?'

'Hermione ... ' Ron tried to put an arm around her shoulders, but she brushed him off, still angry.

'No, Ron! I mean, you and Harry have neglected those assignments countless times!' she fumed.

'And we were put in detention for it countless times, as well,' Harry spoke in a gravely fashion from her left. 'Just try to deal with it, Hermione.'

'Deal with it? This is completely unfair!'

'Come, come, Hermione,' Ron threw in, 'just because you're not used to getting detentions-'

'Not used to it?' she stopped in the middle of the hallway, causing a first-year Hufflepuff to bump into her. 'It's not that, Ron! Can't you see that his treatment of us is entirely unfair?'

'It has been unfair for years, Hermione. Why make it your problem now?'

'Oh, _Ron_! I don't know how I put up with the pair of you!' she huffed, walking out on the boys for the second time that day. They watched her retreating figure in utter confusion.

'Bloody hell,' Ron muttered at last. 'Gone bonkers, she has.' Harry shrugged.


	3. Detention

_Chapter Three_

A still very much infuriated Hermione Granger made her way down to the dungeons that evening. Snape hadn't mentioned a specific time for her detention, and as such she had decided to go immediately after dinner, so as not to give him any more reason to be angry with her. She hadn't seen the Professor in question at dinner, and she fervently wished he was already in his office – she didn't think she could stand waiting outside his rooms in plain view. The Slytherins would undoubtedly notice her, and they never passed out on a chance to insult her.

It appeared as though luck was on her side for the first time that day, because seconds after her first tentative knock on Snape's door a cold voice from inside hissed 'Enter'. She reluctantly pushed open the door and entered the room.

The Professor was sitting behind his desk, grading essays. He hadn't looked up at her entrance, and as such she decided to take in her surroundings while she could. Snape's office was much like the Potions classroom – cold and unwelcoming. Shelves hanging from the walls bore countless potions ingredients, from salamander blood to beetle eyes. She snorted. Even though Snape wasn't teaching Potions anymore, he seemed unwilling to relinquish the ingredients. She looked back at Snape and their eyes met. She realized with a start that he had been watching her, and she quickly averted her eyes.

'Good to see you made it down here in time, Miss Granger. It appears as though you do have _some _ability to follow instructions.' She bit her lip and tried very hard not to sound rude as she answered.

'Yes, sir.' For a moment, he looked almost disappointed that she hadn't fallen for his provokings.

'Very well. Your punishment will consist of cleaning the tables in the Potions classroom. It appears several first years had an – ah, _accident _in Professor Slughorn's class earlier this day.' His lips curled into an unpleasant sneer. 'You will not be using magic, of course.'

'Of course.' She didn't manage to keep the words back. Snape arched an eyebrow.

'Careful, Miss Granger. Or do you wish to serve several more detentions?'

'No, sir,' she spoke as politely as she could given the circumstances.

'Good.' He got up and opened a door to the right of his office. She could see it led to the Potions classroom, which, of course, made sense. She wondered faintly where Professor Slughorn's quarters were; they obviously weren't anywhere near the dungeons. 'I will leave the door open, so don't get any funny ideas,' Snape warned her as she walked into the classroom. She swallowed a sharp retort and instead picked up the bucket and sponge that were already waiting for her on the teacher's desk. It looked like she had at least been right when she assumed he would punish her in such an unchallenging way. She quickly set to cleaning the tables, determined to get away from Snape as soon as possible.

The filth on the tables proved to be more withstanding than she had originally thought. Whatever the first years had spilled over the tables, it was damn near impossible to get rid of, and as such she only finished several hours later. She sighed with relief as she finally finished cleaning the very last table. She leant back against the thing for a moment, closing her eyes in fatigue.

'Well, well,' a familiar snarl came from her side. Her eyes snapped open and she sprung up to face Severus Snape. 'I thought I told you to clean the tables, not to take a nap on them.'

Despite the fact she had nothing to be embarassed about, she could still feel a blush creep to her cheeks. She soundlessly cursed her traitor body. 'I... I finished, sir.'

'I see,' he said, looking around at the tables. 'Your efforts are... adequate. You may leave, Miss Granger.' She gave a curt nod, and was halfway through the classroom before a sudden thought caused her to stop in her tracks and turn around.

'Professor?'

'Yes, Miss Granger?'

'About... about last night, I was just wondering-'

'I have no desire to discuss the events of last night with you, Miss Granger,' Snape cut in.

'But Professor, I was merely wondering-' Snape crossed the classroom in mere seconds and stood before her. He leaned into her, and she realized their noses were only a fraction away from touching. She swallowed hard.

'I said I have no desire to discuss those events, Miss Granger.' His voice was quiet but there was no mistaking the obvious anger in his words. 'Now leave, before I completely lose my temper.'

She was eager to obey his order and found herself practically running out of the classroom, away from the fuming Snape. She only slowed down when she was out of the dungeons and well away from the Professor. She bit her lip in frustration.

'Merlin, that man can be a bother,' she angrily murmured to herself. 'I only meant to ask what they were going to do about me.' She stopped as sudden realization dawned on her. 'Of course!' she exclaimed delighted, not caring that she probably looked stupid talking to herself in an empty corridor. 'Professor Snape is not the only one involved in this!' She hurried up the stairs and through the hallways, heading determinedly for Dumbledore's office. Afterall, he was the one who had told her they'd address the matter in the morning, and since he hadn't come to see her, it was only fair that she came to inquire.

During the day, she had managed to push the thoughts of the conversation she'd overheard to the back of her mind, but during Snape's detention the questions had come to nag at her again. She was determined to find out exactly what was going on, and she couldn't think of a better person to ask than the Headmaster. She found herself grinning as she approached Dumbledore's office. Her smile died away however when she was faced with the gargoyles guarding the entrance to his office. The password. She didn't know the password.

'Bother,' she groaned, biting her lip once again.

'Miss Granger?'

She spun around at the familiar Scottish accent.

'Professor McGonagall!' Her Head of House was standing mere feet away from Hermione's position in front of the gargoyles. The stern woman carefully took in Hermione's appearance, and it was only then that she realized she was covered with dirt, thanks to Snape's detention.

'What are you doing out here, Miss Granger?' McGonagall inquired. 'After curfew, no less.' Her throat tightened as she realized she'd completely lost track of time. She had no idea how much time she'd spent in Snape's classroom, but it had to have been quite a while.

'I... I need to speak with the Headmaster,' she outed. McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

'May I ask why?'

'I'm afraid I cannot tell you, Professor,' she said apologetically. She prayed McGonagall would let her pass despite her obvious lack of a proper reason. Her Head of House gazed at her searchingly for a few seconds, then, to Hermione's great surprise, gave a small nod.

'Very well, Miss Granger, I believe you,' she said, fixing her hat more securely on her head. 'The password is "mints".'

'T-thank you, Professor,' she stammered before hastily repeating the password to the gargoyles, which sprung aside immediately. She stepped onto the escalating stairs, barely believing her luck. Perhaps Professor McGonatall had a soft spot for her Gryffindors after all.

She had reached the top of the stairs, and was now standing directly in front of the oak door that led to Dumbledore's office. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, there came a quiet 'Come in'. Hermione entered the circular room.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, observing visitor through half-closed eyes.

'Miss Granger,' he spoke. 'Sit down.' If Dumbledore was surprised by her presence, he didn't show it.

Hermione let herself fall into a chair close to Dumbledore's desk. She allowed herself a few seconds to take in all the interesting items in Dumbledore's office. Oh, she'd just _love _to take a closer look at some of the instruments scattered around the room. The Headmaster seemed to have sensed some of her thoughts, for he chuckled softly, drawing her attention back to him.

'I must apologise, Miss Granger,' he said, pressing his fingertips together. Hermione realised with a start that she had never seen Dumbledore so tired. 'I forgot all about my promise to get back to you.'

'That's okay,' she hastened to assure him. 'I was merely curious, and Professor Snape wasn't very ... helpful.' This elicited another chuckle from Dumbledore.

'No, I can imagine that,' he said, looking more exhausted still. 'Don't worry, Miss Granger, I will speak with Professor Snape. I am quite sure he can be persuaded to teach you Occlumency, despite the obvious discomfort he predicts at that prospect.'

Hermione shifted uneasily in her chair.

'Professor?' she asked tentatively.

'Yes, Miss Granger?'

'Wouldn't it be much easier if you just, uh, obliviated me? I swear I don't mind, and it's not like I'll tell anyone. Please, sir,' she added, seeing Dumbledore's calculating look, 'I wouldn't want to get you or Professor Snape into trouble.' Dumbledore sighed.

'I know you don't, Miss Granger.' His eyes met Hermione's, and she could see that the familiar twinkle had returned to them.

'But?'

'But I think it has certain ... _advantages _to have another person involved in the plan, even if Professor Snape is unable to see those advantages.' Dumbledore smiled.

'But sir, I –'

'That's about enough for today, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore said kindly. 'I think it is time you should return to your dormitory.'

And so she did, feeling rather dazed.


	4. Occlumency Lessons

_Chapter Four_

The next morning Hermione arrived at breakfast feeling absolutely knackered. She hadn't slept all night because she'd been unable to put her upcoming Occlumency lessons out of her head. Part of her was filled with excitement, for Occlumency seemed like a very useful skill to have mastered indeed. Still, she couldn't help but feel a tad apprehensive at the prospect of spending time alone with Snape, and even worse, having him poke around her memories.

It was not as though she _truly_ hated Snape – the mere idea of hating a teacher seemed absurd to her – but she certainly didn't like him the way she liked the other teachers. Not that this discouraged her; in fact, she was all the more determined to impress him, so that he would finally acknowledge her skill.

Well, she thought determinedly, maybe these Occlumency lessons would give her the chance to do just that.

She looked up just in time to see Harry and Ron enter the Great Hall. They looked around searchingly for a few moments, and she attracted their attention by waving her hand at them. Moments later they'd joined her at the Gryffindor table.

'Morning, Hermione,' Harry said, helping himself to some bacon.

'Blimey Hermione, you look even worse than you did yesterday,' Ron observed.

'Thanks, Ron,' she snapped.

'No problem,' he mumbled through a bite of sandwhich, seemingly unaffected by her moody reply.

'How was detention?' Harry inquired, seeming genuinely interested. 'I hope the git didn't give you too bad a punishment?'

'Had to clean tables,' she muttered, buttering a piece of toast.

'Well, could've been worse,' Harry decided.

'I guess.'

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, and then separated as each of them left for their own classes. They didn't meet up again until after lunch, when they had Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione hadn't quite forgotten what had occurred in their previous lesson, and so it was with some apprehension that she entered the classroom this time. She needn't have been nervous.

Snape behaved in almost exactly the same way as normal. If his snide remarks to the trio were anything more biting than normal, well, he might just have had an off day. Even though Hermione felt immensely relieved at the lack of retaliation for her bold questions yesterday, she still couldn't bring herself to concentrate properly on Snape's words, instead finding herself fascinated by the way he moved through the classroom. His footfalls were light, quiet and stealthy as he swept past the tables. It was no wonder Snape always scared Neville half to death: the man had a gift for sneaking up on people unnoticed. She decided that his stealthiness was probably brought on by years of experience as a spy, and she wondered just how many times he'd had to resort to surreptitiousness to accomplish his missions. Perhaps he-

'Miss Granger,' Snape's voice startled her out of her reverie, 'kindly pay attention to my lesson instead of staring off into the distance. These classes are for learning, not daydreaming. Five points from Gryffindor.'

'I ... I'm sorry Professor, I-'

'That's enough, Miss Granger,' Snape sneered, narrowing his eyes at her. 'I did not ask you for a clarification. Considering this is the second time in two lessons you've spoken out of place, you will receive a detention. _Again._'

From the corner of her eye she could see the Slytherin students snicker. Malfoy looked particularly pleased with her punishment. She could see him mouth something to Crabbe and Goyle, who grinned in return. Whatever Malfoy had said, it was no doubt rude. She felt overcome by the urge to hex Malfoy into next week right then and there. She'd already reached for her wand when Snape spoke again.

'_Miss Granger!_ If I have to tell you to pay attention again, you _will _get detention for the whole next week. Do I make myself clear?' Snape appeared rather angry, and Hermione deemed it unwise to provoke him further, so she just nodded, deciding to get back to Malfoy some other time. 'Very well. You shall come to my office at seven tonight. And Miss Granger, you'd do well to be there on time.'

She nodded again, but Snape's gaze had already left her and he proceeded with the lesson. She allowed herself to glance at Ron and Harry. Ron was doodling absent-mindedly on a piece of parchment, but Harry was looking her way. She met his eyes and he raised his eyebrows. She figured he had a thing or two to say to her after the lesson.

With difficulty she focussed on the lesson, with the distinct feeling that she'd rather duel a pair of Death Eaters than be in Snape's company for another minute.

*****

'What was that all about, Hermione?' Harry asked as they left the DADA classroom.

'What was _what _all about?' she returned the question, shifting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

'Well,' Harry began, looking at her rather thoughtfully, 'Snape does seem to be picking on you as of late.'

'Nonsense,' Ron cut in, 'he's picking on everyone at the moment. He probably just needs to get laid.'

'Ron!' she exclaimed, horrified.

'No need to look so accusing,' Ron mumbled, fidgeting with his sleeve. 'Everyone knows no woman would ever have him.'

'That may very well be, but it is not appropriate to say such things about a teacher.'

'Need I remind you that _you _were the one who was thoroughly infuriated by that same teacher just yesterday?' Ron retorted smartly. Hermione found herself without a reply.

'Look guys,' Harry said, saving her from answering, 'there's no need to fight, especially not about Snape. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer to put him and his essays out of my mind for now.'

'Yeah, me too,' Ron agreed. 'Don't worry about Snape, Hermione, he isn't worth the trouble.'

'I know,' she said, seeing the boys' expectant faces. 'I know.'

Still, deep down she felt it was impossible _not _to worry about him.

*****

At seven o'clock sharp that evening she was standing outside Snape's office, knocking apprehensively on his door. Just like the day before, her knocks were answered by a vicious 'Come in'. She entered the office and was met with a familiar sight. Snape was once again sitting at his desk, though the essays he'd been grading yesterday were nowhere in sight.

'I must confess I was somewhat disappointed by your behaviour in class today, Miss Granger,' he sneered. 'I would have thought the know-it-all capable of paying attention when presented with new information. Or is the curriculum not to your liking? Too easy, perhaps, for your inflated ego?'

'Not at all, sir.' She was relieved to find her voice steady even though she was shuddering inside. 'Your lessons tend to be very ... educative. I was merely ... occupied by other thoughts.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Were you now, Miss Granger? What thoughts were those exactly?'

'Well...' she began uneasily. She'd rather set her pants on fire than tell Snape she'd been thinking about him. Snape mistook her silence for lack of reason. He smirked unpleasantly.

'That's what I thought. You weren't "occupied by other thoughts" at all, were you, Miss Granger? You simply think yourself above us normal people.'

'Sir, no-'

'No matter,' Snape said, and he rose so swiftly from his chair that she started backwards. 'We will find out in a moment.'

'Sir?'

Snape sighed dramatically at her confused expression. '_Occlumency_, Miss Granger. I distinctly recall the Headmaster telling me to teach you the subtle art of mind-blocking. Or are you too important to pay attention to such useless remarks as well?'

Hermione felt the now somewhat familiar anger seep back into her thoughts. How dare he be so unfair? 'No, sir. I simply hadn't expected us to start today.'

'The sooner we start, the sooner I'll be rid of you. Now take out your wand, Miss Granger.' She did as she was told, painfully aware of the slight shaking of her right hand. By the look Snape threw her, it was evident that he was aware of it, too. 'Now, empty your mind of all emotion. Ready? _Legilimens_!'

He invaded her thoughts before she was prepared, and it was safe to say that her mind wasn't exactly devoid of emotion. The anger at Snape was still there, boiling just below the surface, and she found herself helpless as Snape ravaged through her mind, memories flashing before her eyes.

_She saw herself receive her first Hogwarts letter, felt the joy that overwhelmed her as she discovered she was a witch .... Then Harry and Ron were saving her from the troll in their first year, and relief flooded over her, as well as an immense feeling of trust and closeness ... Now she was sitting near the lake with Viktor as he was inviting her to come visit him in Bulgaria, and she felt thoroughly elated ..._

'Enough.' Snape had withdrawn from her mind in a second, leaving her thoughts jumbled and chaotic. She blinked in confusion. 'That was an abysmal first attempt.'

'With all due respect, sir, I wasn't ready yet.' She tried to keep the accusation out of her voice, but she seemed to be failing horribly. 'It would help if you'd give me some more time to ... prepare myself.'

Snape scrutinized her for a few seconds, then surprised her by saying 'Very well. You will have a minute to get ready.'

Wasting no time, she closed her eyes and attempted to rid her mind of emotion. She pushed her confused thoughts and her anger at Snape to the back of her mind, and took a few deep breaths as she felt the blankness spread through her head. This time, when she opened her eyes, she was ready.

Snape was observing her with a rather curious look on his face. He almost looked ... _interested_. A moment later he had composed himself again, his face once more a mask of indifference. His voice was steady as he said '_Legilimens!_'

_She was sitting in the common room with Harry and Ron, checking their homework and loudly berating them for delivering such poor work ... She was at home, seated at the table in the kitchen, as her mother made tea and –_

_No! _she thought forcefully. _You won't get away with it this time! _She began pulling her memories back to a corner of her mind, as well as simultaneously pushing at the foreign presence in her thoughts. The next moment, she had succeeded in shoving Snape out of her mind, and her thoughts were her own once more.

A silence hung in the room as she slowly lifted her head to meet Snape's gaze. The Professor looked rather startled.

'That was a ... promising attempt, Miss Granger.'

'Thank you, sir.' She couldn't keep a proud smile off her face. Snape immediately picked up on it.

'Don't be too taken with yourself just yet, Miss Granger,' he snarled. 'You still have a long way to go.'

'Of course, sir. I apologise.' She managed to banish the smile from her face. Snape appeared satisfied.

'Very well. I expect you to continue practicing emptying your mind. Your next lesson will be exactly a week from now, at the same time. You may leave now.'

'Yes, sir.' It was all she could do not to skip out of his office. She had successfully occluded her mind! All right, she'd only managed it once, but it certainly was a good start. She was halfway out of the office when a sudden impulse made her spin around.

'What is it, Miss Granger?' Snape appeared somewhat apprehensive.

'I just wanted to thank you, sir,' she said, beaming. Snape stared at her in disbelief, and she suddenly realised he probably didn't get thanked by students on a regular basis. Yelled at, yes; thanked, no.

She felt her cheeks flush with embarassment as she realised her mistake. Before Snape could reproach her, she spluttered 'Good evening, sir,' and fled the office, not daring to look back.

If she had, she would've seen Snape was still looking at her, a rather confused expression stuck on his face.


	5. Arguments

_Chapter Five_

The next few weeks passed in a haze. Hermione faithfully returned to Snape's dungeons every Thursday for her Occlumency lessons, something that often prompted Harry and Ron to question her. She was finding it increasingly hard to keep lying to the boys – mainly because the 'library' excuse was starting to get overused. She knew she'd have to find a better excuse soon, but right now her mind was drawing a blank. She'd have to ask Snape at their next lesson. Speaking of which ...

She glanced up at the large clock in the corner of the Gryffindor common room. It was twenty minutes to seven. She'd better go down to the dungeons. She hadn't been late for one of the Occlumency lessons yet, but she figured it wouldn't do to piss Snape off with something like that now. Sighing, she closed her Charms book. Harry, who had been sitting in the chair opposite her, working on his Divination homework, looked up at the movement. He frowned.

'What are you doing, Hermione?' he questioned her. Ron looked up from his homework as well at Harry's words. Brilliant.

'I'm just going to check something in the library,' she said, attempting to sound nonchalant as she shoved her Charms book into her bag.

'Again?' Ron moaned. 'You go there almost every evening.'

'Not every evening, Ron,' she snapped. 'Besides, it's loads easier to concentrate in a library than in an overcrowded common room.' A true statement, were it not for the fact that the common room was almost deserted that day.

'Look at the place, Hermione,' Ron said, gesturing around with his hands. 'It's nearly empty. What could you possibly –'

'Don't push it, Ron,' Harry interrupted, closing his Divination book. 'We'll just go to the library together. There's no need to let Hermione sit there on her own.'

Hermione felt her throat constrict. _Crap_.

'There's no need to, Harry,' she choked. 'I'd rather go on my own anyway. No offense, but it's quicker that way.'

'She's right, Harry,' Ron spoke from behind his book. 'Besides, I'd rather not spend my evening in the library.' Hermione silently blessed Ron's dislike of books.

Harry looked pensive. 'But Hermione, you've been spending entirely too much time in the library lately. I feel like I hardly ever see you anymore.'

'That's not true. I only go there on –' She hastily bit her lip, realising her mistake. Unfortunately, Harry had also noticed.

'Thursdays,' he muttered. 'You only go there on Thursdays. Why, Hermione?' He was looking at her rather accusingly. She swallowed thickly and mentally scolded herself for giving herself away so easily. She risked a glance at the clock. Ten to seven. She'd have to hurry.

Harry and Ron were still staring at her, the latter open-mouthed. It wouldn't be smart to leave them like this – but then, did she have a choice?

'Listen, guys.' She was pleasantly surprised to discover her voice sounded calm. 'There is a reason for all this. But I can't tell you about it now. I'm running terribly late.' She gathered her bag from the floor and marched towards the portrait hole, leaving a rather confused Harry and Ron in her wake. From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry jump up from his chair, and for one terrifying moment she was afraid he'd follow her. Then the portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut behind her and she was mercifully alone in the corridor. She allowed herself a deep breath before she headed for Snape's office, walking slightly faster than she strictly speaking should.

Within minutes she had reached the now familiar entrance to Snape's office. She knocked on the door for what felt like the millionth time, and once again, she was met with a snarled 'Come in'. She entered. Snape was standing in front of a bookcase, his back turned to her. She stood quietly watching him as he traced the back of a book with one finger, then pulled it out and faced her.

'Miss Granger,' he acknowledged her.

'Professor,' she retaliated. 'We have a problem.'

He quirked an eyebrow. 'We?'

'Let me rephrase that,' she amended, feeling somewhat exasperated with his knack for turning simple matters into difficult ones. 'I have a problem that concerns you, or rather, your Occlumency lessons.' Snape gently put the book down on his desk.

'And what might that problem be, Miss Granger?'

'Ron and Harry know. That is to say, they have realised that I _conveniently _disappear to the library every Thursday.'

Snape looked disapproving. 'You gave them the library excuse every time? Tsk, I would have expected better from you, Miss Granger. Surely you were aware of the transparency of that lie? Why then did you not think of a better excuse?'

'With all due respect, sir,' she managed, 'I tried to come up with something better, but I couldn't. I meant to ask you about it, but then Harry and Ron caught on and...' she trailed off, not knowing what to say.

'What did you tell them tonight, then?'

She flushed and looked away. 'I didn't tell them anything. I just ... left.'

Snape looked vaguely amused.

'My my, how very not Gryffindor of you,' he sneered. 'Next time, rather than running away from a confrontation and making yourself seem suspicious, tell those dunderheads you've been ordered to help me brew healing potions for Madam Pomfrey or something of the sort.'

Hermione was dumb-struck. Why hadn't _she _thought of that?

'But sir,' she protested, 'they'll ask why I didn't just tell them that.'

Snape waved his hand in a non-commital way. 'You are more than clever enough to come up with an acceptable excuse for that. It's high time you start using that brain of yours.'

She blinked unbelievingly. Had Snape really just _complimented _her? It seemed he had. Granted, it had been in a rather roundabout way, but he _had _said she was clever, hadn't he?

'Yes, Professor,' she mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

'Good. Now, I do believe we have an Occlumency lesson to start. Tell me, have you been practising emptying your mind again, Miss Granger?'

'Yes, I have.'

'I would appreciate it if you looked at me when you address me.' She reluctantly looked up at him, and he repeated his question. 'Well, have you?'

'Yes sir, I have.'

'Very well. Let's find out if you have improved any, shall we?' He lifted his wand. Hermione took a deep breath and gave a stiff nod. 'Legilimens!'

Once again she could feel Snape enter her mind. She quickly shielded her thoughts from his view. She could feel Snape pushing at the edges of her Occlumency shield, trying to find a weak spot. She nearly chuckled as she shoved him out forcefully. A bit too forcefully.

She heard a rather sharp intake of breath from the other side of the room, and when she looked up she saw Snape pinching the bridge of his nose.

'Caution, Miss Granger,' he snapped. 'The mind is a very fragile thing. I'd advise you to be somewhat gentler next time, or I will not hesitate to retaliate.'

'Sorry, Professor.' She could feel a blush creep up to her cheeks. It hadn't been her intention to actually cause him pain.

'Apology accepted,' Snape said curtly. 'Now, I believe you are ready for something slightly more difficult.'

'Sir?' She didn't manage to keep the surprise out of her voice. What else could there possibly be to learn about Occlumency?

'The shielding of independent thoughts, Miss Granger.' There was an edge of impatience to his voice. 'A kind of blocking much more subtle and much less suspicious than what we have been practising thus far.'

Comprehension dawned on her.

'I'm sorry Professor. It's just that Harry never said – '

'Potter,' Snape interrupted her, a dangerous quality to his voice, 'was hardly capable of performing the simpler aspects of Occlumency. There was no way he would have been able to shield independent thoughts. I thought you would understand as much, Miss Granger.'

Biting her lip, she fought the newly returned blush away, wondering what exactly about this man made her feel like the most ignorant person on Earth.

'Forgive me, Professor. I wasn't thinking.'

'That much was evident. Now listen carefully. I will only explain this once, so you would do better to pay attention. Do I make myself clear, Miss Granger?'

'Yes, Professor.' She grinned as she added 'I wouldn't want to miss this.'

Snape again quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise did not comment on her daring reply.

'Fine. As you probably realise, the shielding of independent thoughts is much more difficult than blocking your entire mind, but it is also infinitely more rewarding.' He paused, and she looked at him expectantly. 'In a moment's time, I will infiltrate your mind and look for a specific memory.'

'But sir,' she cut in, 'how am I supposed to shield that memory?'

'I am sure you will think of something,' said Snape curtly. At the pained expression on her face, he added 'I won't be keeping you in the dark, Miss Granger. I merely wish for you to try and think of a way to block me before I explain the exact method. Things will be more efficient that way.'

She gave a hesistant nod, not at all certain how things could be more efficient if she didn't have the faintest idea what to do.

'Now,' he continued, seemingly oblivious to her inner struggle, 'you should pick a specific memory or event that you wish to try hiding. It will probably be easiest for you to pick a distinctive one.'

He gazed at her expectantly, and she began racking her brains for a suitable memory. _What to choose? What memory is distinctive? _

Snape made an impatient noise, and she settled on the first thing that came to mind.

'The Yule Ball.'

'Excuse me?' He was looking at her with a rather peculiar expression.

'The Yule Ball,' she repeated. 'I will try not to think about the Yule Ball.'

Snape looked dubious for a moment, then nodded. 'Very well. When you're ready, Miss Granger.'

'Go ahead,' she breathed.

'_Legilimens_,' he said, and entered her mind.

As she felt the foreign presence blaze through her mind, she attempted to gather all of the memories connected to the Yule Ball, and tried pushing them to the back of her mind. It was difficult to stay focussed on hiding the memories, for Snape was wading through her memories with increasing speed and fervour. Still, she held on to the Yule Ball memories, refusing to let go even as scenes from her life flashed by before her eyes.

_She was in the library, working her way through stacks of books while reve__lling in the silence ... she was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, brewing the Polyjuice Potion as Harry and Ron watched from a distance ..._

She felt an unexpected pull at the memories she was trying so hard to hold back, and she increased her grip on them. The pulling sensation continued for several seconds, then Snape retreated from the back of her mind, and once more began going through her other memories.

_She was in the library again, but__ this time she was not alone – Victor Krum was talking with her, asking her to the ball, and for once, she felt truly confident ... Now she was in Madame Malkin's shop, picking a dress to wear ... She was posing before an elated Ginny, who loudly declared Hermione would be the princess of the ball, and she really did feel like a princess just then ..._

With a start she realized Snape was getting closer and closer to the Yule Ball memories, and she made a futile attempt to pull the memories further back to her mind, even though she knew it was too late.

_She was attempting to force her hair into submission, and she cursed loudly as a tooth broke off her comb, getting tangled in her hair ... She was sitting with Victor at the dining table, trying to get him to pronounce her name correctly – though it was really kind of cute the way he said it ... _

Hermione knew then that Snape had succeeded – he had accessed her memories of the Yule Ball. Still, he did not retreat from her mind.

'_Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!' The words echoed through her mind as she watched herself run away from Ron and his stupid behaviour ... She was running up the stairs to her dormitory, angrier than ever before ... And then, as the door slammed shut, she collapsed on her bed, and cried for the first time in a long long while ... She felt helpless, small, and she found herself wondering whether anyone would actually miss her if she was gone ..._

'NO!'

She didn't realize she had spoken the words outloud until she felt Snape retreat from her mind. For one long second she remained still, looking at the seemingly unnerved man across the room. Then she started shouting.

'How dare you? _How dare you? _Those memories were private! You had no right! No right!'

'Miss Granger...'

'NO! You should have just stopped when you succeeded in breaking my defenses!'

Snape raised his voice then. 'Miss Granger, if you will keep your trap shut for a minute, I will explain myself to you.'

She was torn for a moment, her feelings conflicted and confused. She really wanted to keep shouting at him for violating her privacy, even though she had no real reason to – after all, learning Occlumency was hardly a private affair – still, she couldn't care less about that at the moment.

She looked up at Snape, still standing across the room. She took in his calm features, his cold black eyes – and she felt an inexplicable rage sweep over her.

'No, Snape,' she spat, not bothering with the honorific, 'I will _not _keep my trap shut for a minute. You are way out of line, and you know it.'

'Granger,' he began, but she'd had enough.

'Goodnight, Professor,' she hissed, and fled from the room.

* * *

_AN: I know, emo!Hermione. Forgive me. xD_


	6. Lies

_Chapter Six_

'_Goodnight, Professor,' she hissed, and fled from the room._

The door slammed shut behind her, and for a moment he was tempted to throw a jar of toad eyes after her. The insufferable girl! It wasn't as though he _liked _sacrificing his evenings to teach her Occlumency! It wasn't as though he didn't have more than enough to deal with without her teenage angst!

He buried his head into his hands and sighed deeply. Dumbledore was going to pay for this.

Decision made, he grabbed his wand from his desk and threw open the same door the Granger girl had just slammed shut. He strode out of the dungeons, up the stairs and towards the Headmaster's office.

'Mints,' he sneered at the gargoyles, which leapt aside immediately. He stepped onto the ascending staircase, and, even though he was already moving upwards, continued to walk up the steps. He reached the door to Dumbledore's office in record time. He gave one sharp knock on the oak wood, then threw open the door and swept inside the old coot's office.

Dumbledore was sitting at his usual position behind his desk, his hands folded together and his twinkling blue eyes observing Snape.

'Severus,' he began, waving his hand towards an empty seat. Snape did not sit. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?'

'Pleasure?' he snarled. 'Hardly.'

'Please, Severus, sit down,' Dumbledore urged. Snape shook his head. Dumbledore sighed. 'What is the problem?'

'I will not be teaching Miss Granger Occlumency any longer.' His voice was cold, but he knew the anger was dripping off it.

'Why not?'

'Because she has neither the patience nor the motivation to follow her lessons appropriately, as she demonstrated today by shouting at me.'

Dumbledore laced his fingers together. 'You have to understand that this is a stressful time for her, Severus. She –'

'A stressful time for _her_?' he sneered. 'It hasn't exactly been enjoyable for me either!'

'Regardless, Severus, I cannot allow you to stop teaching her.' Dumbledore sounded stern.

Snape wasn't buying it. 'If it is so important she learns Occlumency, why don't _you _teach her?'

'That is out of the question.'

'But Headmaster, surely you –'

'No, Severus, you will continue to teach the girl and that's final,' Dumbledore interrupted. 'Both our lives and quite possibly the outcome of this war depend on it.'

'I won't have to teach her if we obliviate her,' he tried.

'I will not obliviate one of our students.'

'Headmaster –'

'Goodnight, Severus.' Dumbledore inclined his head towards the door. Sensing that it was useless to try and make the old man see sense, Snape stormed out of the office, a tension headache building up behind his left ear.

He was still fuming when he reached his office and found the door slightly ajar. He whipped out his wand and carefully pushed the door open somewhat further. The damned-thrice thing cracked at his ministrations. Throwing caution to the wind, he flung open the door, wand pointed out in front of him.

The Granger girl was standing in the middle of his office, looking up at him with big, shocked eyes. She seemed close to tears. Sighing, he lowered his wand, wondering what he could have possibly done to make the gods punish him so severely.

'Miss Granger,' he said exasperatedly, no longer able to summon the energy to be angry, 'what are you doing here?'

The girl buried her face in her sleeve and mumbled something incoherent. He could feel his headache getting worse.

'If you want me to understand you, I suggest you extract your face from your sleeve, Miss Granger,' he snarled.

She did so and her slightly wet eyes met his. He did so hope she wouldn't cry.

'I said: I'm sorry,' she repeated.

'You're apologizing to me?' he asked sceptically.

She nodded. 'I shouldn't have shouted at you.'

'You shouldn't have,' he agreed coldly.

'And I should have let you finish talking.'

'Yes.'

'And as such I've come to apologize, and express the hope that you will continue to teach me, despite our ... _argument_,' she finished bravely.

He pondered this for a moment. His common sense was screaming at him to throw her out of his office, but then again, she _had _apologized. Not to mention that Dumbledore would have his head if he stopped teaching her.

'Very well,' he said at last. 'I shall continue to teach you.'

Her face brightened considerably at his words, and he immediately regretted granting her wish.

'Thank you, thank you!' The girl seemed positively elated. He eyed her suspiciously.

'Next time, I won't be so forgiving,' he warned her. 'Now get out of my office.'

She nodded and did as he had commanded her.

He wondered faintly how it was that his headache had only gotten worse from this confrontation, instead of better.

*****

Hermione could have skipped back Gryffindor common room – she was that relieved. She thought she had destroyed all her chances of learning Occlumency when she had stormed out of his office, but it seemed that luck was on her side today.

She shivered at the thought of what Dumbledore would have said if she'd told him Snape didn't want to teach her Occlumency anymore. _He would have been disappointed_, she reasoned, chewing on her lip. _And rightly so._

She had reached the painting of the Fat Lady, and, coming back to her senses, she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She really would have to gain more control over her emotions; the way let herself be overpowered by the slightest mood change was truly disconcerting.

'Dilligrout,' she announced to the painting, and it swung open to allow her entrance into the common room. She climbed through the portrait hole, then froze at the sight before her.

Harry and Ron were sitting in seats in front of the fire, looking at her disapprovingly. Casting a quick look around the common room, Hermione realized they were the only ones left. She thanked the gods for that small mercy.

'Hermione,' Harry acknowledged her. 'We've been hoping you'd come back to clarify a thing or two.'

'Yes,' Ron agreed. Even in the dim light of the fire, she could clearly see the red spots on his cheeks that betrayed his anger. 'An explanation would be nice. Or are you going to run away from us again?'

She sighed deeply and sank down into a chair close to Harry and Ron.

'I owe you an explanation.' It wasn't a question, but Harry and Ron nodded regardless. Hermione bit her lip, wondering what to tell the pair.

'Hermione?' Harry inquired, the anger on his face making place for concern. 'Are you all right?'

She gave a tight nod, and she realized she couldn't keep lying to her friends. They deserved to know what was going on, whether Snape agreed to it or not. She could always leave out some details.

'Yes, Harry, I'm fine,' she finally managed. 'As for what I've been doing: I've been spending my Thursday evenings with Snape, because –'

'SNAPE?'

Ron had jumped up from his chair so suddenly he'd knocked over the table at which they'd been working earlier that evening. Several school books slid dangerously close to the fireplace.

'Yes, Ron, Snape.' She was trying very hard not to be annoyed by Ron's recent outburst, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. 'Because I –'

'Hermione,' Harry interrupted. Unlike Ron, he hadn't jumped up at the mention of Snape's name. Instead, he was looking at her with a kind of coldness in his eyes that she had seldomly witnessed before. She found that Harry's cold anger was much worse than Ron's shouting. 'You've been spending time with _Snape_? Do you have any idea what he's –'

'Harry, it's not as though I _want _to spend time with him,' she snapped.

'Then why are you still going there?' There was an unmistakeable rage in Harry's voice now.

'Well, I –' Ron made an annoyed sound from his position next to the fireplace. 'What is it, Ron?'

'Oh,' he said, and the anger was dripping from his voice. 'It's just that I hope you have a very good reason for your behaviour.'

'Are you _threatening _me, Ron?' Her blood felt close to boiling.

'This is not something to be taken lightly, Hermione,' Harry said grimly.

'Merlin, Harry, it's only Snape!'

'_Only Snape? Only Snape? _Hermione, that man is a demon! Now tell us what you've been doing with him, or I will go to Dumbledore for answers!'

'_Fine!_' she snapped. '_Fine! _Go to Dumbledore! Perhaps you'd be interested in knowing _he _was the one who told me to work with Snape!'

A shocked silence fell over the common room. It was Ron who regained his powers of speech first.

'But why, Hermione?'

For the second time that night, she could feel tears begin to well up in her eyes, and she blinked furiously. How could she have ever even considered telling Ron and Harry the truth, when they were so obviously blinded by stupid prejudices?

She carefully avoided looking at the boys.

'Because he needed someone to brew healing potions for Madam Pomfrey.'

She could feel an incredible feeling of tiredness wash over her as she finally told the lie. If this was what it felt like to lie to your friends, she could understand why Snape had turned out the way he did.

When she finally dared to look up again, she saw Ron had slumped back into his chair and Harry was staring blankly at the fire.

'Blimey, Hermione, why didn't you just tell us that before?' Ron, at least, appeared to have forgiven her for spending time with Snape.

'I was trying to,' she said exasperatedly, 'but you kept interfering.'

Ron mumbled something incoherent. Harry was still staring at the fire.

'Harry?' she tried carefully.

At the mention of his name, Harry shot up from his seat.

'I'm going to bed.' He turned and exited the room before she had a chance to respond. Ron was looking rather blankly at Harry's abandoned chair. She could feel her throat constrict.

'I think I'm going to bed as well,' she choked out before gathering her books and dashing upstairs, not paying heed to Ron's protests.


	7. Property of the HalfBlood Prince

_Chapter Seven_

Harry and Ron were noticably cooler than usual to her for the next couple of days, but she couldn't bring herself to make a fuss over it. Truth be told, she felt quite exasperated by their eternal prejudices against Snape (though, she reminded herself, _she _had acted somewhat prejudiced herself lately) and she was glad for the small break.

Still, though she felt justified in her actions, she couldn't ignore that nagging little voice in the back of her mind that told her she shouldn't have lied to Harry and Ron. They probably deserved to hear the truth – but she had promised Dumbledore not to tell anyone, hadn't she? And then the boys were being so difficult about the whole Snape thing, too – so no, she wouldn't tell them. Yet.

Another source of irritation was that infernal Potions book that Harry carried with him wherever he went – the one that had belonged to the Half-Blood Prince. The whole situation had seemed fishy from the start, and the few glances she'd stolen at the book only seemed to confirm her suspicions. She hadn't had a chance to thoroughly investigate the scribbled notes yet, for Harry was careful to keep the book away from her after she had voiced her thoughts, but she planned on _borrowing _it someday soon. It wasn't as though she was invading Harry's privacy – after all, the book didn't even belong to him – and besides, she just wanted to make sure it was safe.

*****

The opportunity to look through the book came sooner than she had anticipated. Harry, after having announced that he was heading off to bed early the next evening, accidentally left his books on the table they had been working at. Ron, absorbed in a long overdue essay, didn't notice. It was an easy trick to collect her own books and surreptitiously add the Potions book to her stack. After glancing around to make sure no one had been watching her as she took the book, she bade Ron goodnight and dashed off to her dormitory. It was delightfully empty.

She threw the Half-Blood Prince's book onto her bed, sat down next to it, and drew the curtains shut around herself, providing cover in the unlikely case that any of the other girls decided to go to bed early. Then she took the book, installed it in her lap and opened it carefully. Though she had already cast _specialis revelio _on the book and the spell hadn't come up with anything, she still felt it might be better to excercise caution around the book.

She began flipping through the pages of the book, every now and then pausing to look at some notes more closely. The amount of seemingly new spells she encountered was slightly disconcerting. _Who is this Prince fellow, and why did he spend so much time inventing new spells? _Most of the spells seemed innocent enough – the ones like Muffliato and Levicorpus. It was true that she didn't like those spells (they hadn't been approved by the Ministry, after all) but at least they hadn't caused anyone serious harm. What worried her, though, were the few spells that _didn't _seem innocent. She still remembered the hex Harry had cast on Crabbe – the one that had made his toenails grow – and she hadn't thought it funny at all. Leafing through the book, she saw that there were several more spells similar to the toenail one, and that gave her a bad feeling.

What gave her an even worse feeling were the spells that didn't have any description whatsoever. As far as she could see, there was no way to know what several of those spells did without casting them first, and that was hardly a safe thing to do. And knowing Harry and Ron, they would have no qualms whatsoever about casting unknown spells.

What _really _worried her, however, was the spell she had discovered near the back of the book. Scrawled in a margin, it read: 'Sectumsempra: For Enemies'. She felt confident that anything _that _book depicted as 'For Enemies' was a bad thing indeed.

And then there was the hand in which the spells were written. She was certain, _certain _that she had seen that handwriting before, but somehow she couldn't place it. It frustrated her to no end, knowing that she might be able to identify the Prince – if only she could remember where she had seen it before!

She had reached the end of the book; an elegantly written 'This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince' on the back cover made up the last of the Prince's notes. She stashed the book away inside her trunk, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She undressed slowly, then crawled up beneath the covers of her bed, her mind clouded with uncertainties. After a while Lavender, Parvati and the other girls entered the dormitory. She listened with her eyes closed to their quiet chatter as they readied themselves for bed, not feeling up to the task of talking with them. Eventually, the others settled down and fell asleep, but she remained awake for a long time yet.

*****

She was the first to be in the common room the next morning. Despite falling asleep late, she had gotten up early with the purpose to put the Potions book back with Harry's other belongings. She placed the book in the approximate spot she had taken it from, and then, figuring she had nothing better to do anyway, went downstairs for an early breakfast.

The Great Hall was nearly deserted. There was only herself, a bunch of Ravenclaw girls, a Slytherin first year and the Professors Flitwick and McGonagall. She slid into a chair at the empty Gryffindor table and began buttering some toast.

Somewhere halfway her pumpkin juice she became aware of the unsettling sensation that someone was watching her. When she glanced around the Great Hall, she locked eyes with McGonagall. She had the feeling McGonagall had been watching her ever since she had come in, and under the Professor's inquisitive gaze, she found herself mentally checking whether there was anything she had done wrong in the past couple of days.

McGonagall only stopped watching Hermione when Flitwick pulled at her sleeve, apparently wanting her opinion on some matter. Relieved, Hermione went back to her pumpkin juice. She decided that she'd probably only been let off the hook temporarily, and that McGonagall was likely to confront her sometime soon. Well, at least then she would know what all the suspicious staring was about.

The Great Hall was slowly beginning to fill with students, though Harry and Ron were still nowhere to be seen. She was just debating whether she should head back to the common room for the remainder of her time when a second-year girl from Gryffindor came up to her.

'Hermione Granger?' the girl inquired, twisting a strand of hair around a finger. She seemed nervous. Considering her role as a Prefect, Hermione figured the girl probably wanted her advice on something.

'Yes? What's wrong?'

'Professor Snape asked me to give this to you.' The girl opened her other hand to reveal a piece of wrinkled parchment. Somehow, Hermione doubted the wrinkles were Snape's doing. 'I wanted to give it to you last night, but they said you had already gone off to bed.'

'Yes, that's true,' she confirmed, taking the piece of parchment from the girl. 'Thank you.'

The girl darted off towards her friends, apparently relieved to leave her company. Checking her surroundings for anyone attempting to read over her shoulder, she folded open the note.

_Come to my office at seven PM this Monday for your Occlumency lesson._

She turned the piece of parchment over, not sure if she was expecting something to be written on the back of it, but checking anyway. There was nothing, and she quietly marvelled at Snape's ability to write utterly short, impersonal letters – no, notes. He hadn't even signed the thing.

She was just about to tuck the note into one of her pockets when something caught her eye. She stared at the note for a long moment, and then it hit her. The 'P' in Snape's 'PM' was just like the 'P' in 'Prince'. She sat gazing at the note dumbly for several moments. Then she took a deep breath, folded the note again with trembling fingers, and slid it into her pocket. She needed to be certain.

She rose from the table so abruptly several of her neighbours looked up from their plates. She practically ran out of the Great Hall, up the stairs and into the tower. She finally arrived, panting, at the painting of the Fat Lady. She was just about to give the password when the portrait swung open and Harry and Ron climbed through the opening. They halted when they caught sight of her.

'Up already?' Ron asked.

'Yeah, I couldn't sleep anymore,' she lied quickly. 'Anyway, I forgot something in my room, so I'll just go and get it now.'

'You'd better hurry up,' Ron warned her as she clambered through the portrait hole. 'You'll miss breakfast.'

'I've already had breakfast, Ron,' she said over her shoulder. Ron looked awed. Then the portrait swung shut and she was alone inside the common room once more. Ron was right: it was already quite late. She only had about ten minutes left until lessons would start.

Wasting no time, she hurried over to the table where Harry's books had been that morning. There were still books there, but she noted with an alarming pang that the stack was considerably smaller than it had been earlier that day. She quickly scanned the covers of the books and confirmed what she had already feared: the Potions book was gone. Harry hadn't been careless enough to leave it lying around a second time.

She slumped down into a nearby armchair. How could she possibly confirm her suspicions without the book? She racked her mind for an excuse to relieve Harry of his book, but she couldn't come up with anything. Asking him would seem suspicious, and stealing the thing a second time would be damn-near impossible. Harry usually appeared to guard the thing with his life. There was only one way: she would have to duplicate the book when he wasn't looking. That way, Harry needn't notice anything at all.

She jumped up, checked her timetable and was pleasantly surprised to discover they had Potions first thing that morning. She left the common room in a hurry, excitement rushing through her veins. As a result of her haste, she was the first person in the dungeons. She waited in front of the classroom door, for once not bothered by the snide remarks of the passing Slytherins.

After what probably were several minutes, but felt like years, the rest of the class showed up, and then, finally, Slughorn graced them with his presence. He unlocked the classroom and they all went inside and sat down, Hermione making sure that she sat next to Harry. Slughorn instructed them to brew some Calming Draught, and though it was a simple potion, she found it increasingly hard to concentrate. She was on the edge of her seat all lesson, waiting for that one opportunity to duplicate the book.

She at last got her chance when Harry went to get some ingredient from the student's cupboard and turned his back to her. Ron was much too busy attempting to salvage his botched potion to pay any attention to her, and she was able to quietly murmur a duplicating spell and hide the copy of the Potions book in her bag. Moments later Harry returned, and she went back to brewing, though her heart wasn't in it.

As soon as the lesson ended she threw her things into her bag and rushed from the classroom, making a vague comment about needing the bathroom to Harry and Ron. She then made her way to the only relatively safe place she could think of: Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She felt a grim satisfaction when she realised she at least hadn't been lying outright to Harry and Ron: she really had gone to a bathroom.

She reached the second floor in record time and managed to sneak into Myrtle's bathroom unnoticed by Filch, who was reprimanding some third-years for walking too quickly just at the other end of the corridor. She quietly closed the door behind her and found herself a spot on the cold floor. Just as she was about to extract the book from her bag, another obstacle presented itself.

'Oh, so you're back, are you?'

Hermione snapped her head up and came eye to eye with the translucent form of Moaning Myrtle.

'Myrtle,' she said dryly. 'Yes, I'm back.'

Myrtle crossed her arms. 'You have quite some nerve, you know. Not visiting for _years _and then showing up all of a sudden!'

She closed her eyes in exasperation. 'Myrtle, do you think you could give me a moment? Please?'

She opened her eyes again to the sight of a completely gobsmacked Myrtle. The silence didn't last, however, for the next moment Myrtle let out a cry and yelled 'The nerve!' before disappearing into a toilet. A job well done, Hermione turned her attention back to the book. She grabbed it from inside her bag and hurriedly went to the back cover. There it was. She extracted Snape's note from her pocket, unfolded it, and placed it next to the Half-Blood Prince's signature. Her assumptions had been correct. The handwriting was the same.

She buried her head into her hands, feeling totally exhausted. In the heat of the action, she had never actually stopped to consider what she'd do if she was proven right, and now her mind was riddled with questions. Was this really Snape's book? Why had he called himself 'The Half-Blood Prince'? What had he been thinking, inventing spells like that? How had Harry even managed to end up with the book in the first place? Certainly Snape wasn't so careless with his belongings?

As she gathered her own belongings, many of which had ended up across the bathroom, she managed to ban most thoughts about the book from her mind. The one question that wouldn't leave her, however, was this: should she or shouldn't she tell Snape what she knew?

*****

It was only when she was standing outside Snape's office that evening that she finally decided. She wouldn't tell him. He had written those notes a long time ago, most likely without the intention to ever show them to anyone. If they didn't do any harm, what was the use in bothering (and, she shuddered to think, _upsetting_) him? No, it was better to let sleeping dogs lie.

She entered the office quietly and found Snape already waiting for her. She looked away from him, not daring to meet his eyes. She still felt a vague unease when she remembered what had happened the last time she had been in this office.

Snape, on the other hand, didn't seem troubled by it in the least.

'If I remember correctly, we were attempting to shield individual thoughts last week.' He paused, then looked at her with a glint of maliciousness in his eyes. 'At least, we were until your little emotional outbreak.'

Of course he had to try and embarrass her further. Well, she wasn't falling for it. Her 'Yes' was curt and prompted Snape to raise his eyebrows. He didn't comment in any other way, however.

'You seemed to have grasped the idea quite well,' he continued, his voice smooth. 'Now you will just need to ... _practice_.'

She took that to mean 'withstand more mind attacks'.

'Okay.'

'You will need to decide what memory you wish to conceal. I suggest you pick something less emotional this time.'

'Fine.'

'You will address me in the proper way, Miss Granger.'

'Fine, sir,' she amended. 'I will try not to think about my first Potions lesson.'

It had seemed like a good idea in her head. As she was watching Snape's jaw clench, however, it didn't seem so smart anymore.

'Good,' he spat, taking out his wand. 'Get ready.'

This time she was prepared when he entered her mind. She had attempted to push the memory to a far corner of her mind, to bury it with layers of other memories. She wasn't sure whether she'd succeed to prevent Snape from seeing the memory, but she felt like she at least stood a chance.

Snape rifled through her memories at an incredible speed. She felt slightly disconcerted by this, but tried to relive other memories as he searched through her mind for the one she was supposed to be hiding. She felt a vague satisfaction when she noticed her stragegy was at least partly working: Snape seemed distracted by the memories she was thinking of. Sooner than she would have liked, however, he began accessing several Potions related memories. It was then that Hermione felt a flash of discomfort – along with the unsettling feeling that she had forgotten something _very _important.

The next instant, it became painfully clear what exactly she had forgotten.

Snape, having just finished going over the memory of her buying her first cauldron, was now looking at the one in which she bought her copy of _Advanced Potion-making_. Feeling a slight panic as she recalled that _other _memory about a Potions book, she attempted to push Snape away from the book-related memories. Unfortunately, this only seemed to spike Snape's curiosity, and he was tugging at her memories harder than ever before.

She attempted to withstand him, but soon his ministrations became too much for her untrained mind to repel, and he had arrived at the memories she so dreaded to show him.

_She was sitting on her bed, the curtains drawn, Harry's Potions book in her lap ... She was opening it, looking at the elegantly written 'This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince' ... She was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, comparing the handwriting in the book to Snape's note ..._

It was enough for Snape. He drew back from her mind without even finding the memory of her first Potions lesson. She blinked furiously, trying to readjust to the sudden quietness of her mind. Snape was standing across the room. To someone who hadn't been observing him as closely as she had, he might appear unaffected by his recent discovery. But she had learned to recognise the tell-tale signs. His pale face was just a tad whiter than normal, his fingers clenched around his wand a bit tighter than usual. He was upset.

When he spoke, his voice was cold.

'Miss Granger, what was that?'

She decided to spill the beans. It was no use trying to hide anything from him anyway.

'Your Potions book, sir,' she answered timidly.

'And how did you come to possess it?' There was an unmistakeable anger in his voice now.

'I don't, sir. Harry has it.'

Snape seemed to have run out of patience. 'Where did he get it?'

'Professor Slughorn gave it to him at the beginning of the year, because he didn't have a book yet. It was ... it was ... just lying around in a cupboard.' She stole a glance at Snape, who was, in an uncharacteristic display of emotion, running a hand through his hair.

'He still has it?'

'Yes.'

'When did you discover the book was mine?'

'Today, sir. I recognised the handwriting on your note.' Even to her own ears, she sounded apologetic.

Snape sighed and muttered more to himself than to her 'I need that book back.'

'Then perhaps you should go and get it?'

She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth after that unthoughtful comment, but the damage had already been done.

'Miss Granger,' he snarled, 'that is no way to talk to a teacher.'

'I'm sorry, sir.'

'You're dismissed.' He waved at the door, then turned his back on her and marched out of his office through another door. She couldn't help fearing she had just landed Harry into a whole lot of trouble.


	8. Sectumsempra

_Chapter Eight_

Days passed, but it seemed Snape still hadn't confronted Harry about his Potions book. If he had, Harry was keeping it awfully quiet. The thrice-damned school book still accompanied him wherever he went, and more often than not he was lost in the pages of the text. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see Harry leafing through it at breakfast in the morning, and Ron had confided in her that Harry sometimes even took the book to bed.

Harry's infatuation with the book worried her to no end. While she didn't believe that Snape would consciously do anything to harm Harry now, she still feared the book meant danger. After all, Snape hadn't meant the book to fall into anyone else's hands – especially not Harry's. As such, he might have written down several more ... _incriminating _spells. And wasn't it also true that Snape had once been on the side of the Dark? Hadn't he been seduced by the evils on the other side of the thin line between good and bad?

When Ron relayed the account of Harry's wet and bloody arrival in the common room, she didn't know whether to be surprised or not. She did know she was angry. The whole way down to the dungeons a mantra repeated inside her head.

_Snape's book. Snape's handwriting. Snape's curse._

She knew that ultimately, the blame rested with Snape. While Harry should have known better not to trust a handwritten curse, it was Snape who had designed the curse. With this firmly ingrained in her head, she ran down the stairs that led to the dungeons, not caring who saw her.

It had been Snape's curse that had landed Malfoy in the hospital wing, and as such he had better be ready to provide some answers.

She walked into Snape's office blindly.

'What were you thinking?'

The words were angry and accusing, and they prompted Snape to rise from his chair at once.

'I don't know what gives you the idea that that is the appropriate way to address a teacher, but I can assure you –'

'It was your curse that caused all this trouble!' she shouted, throwing the door shut behind her. It would not do to have anyone over hear this conversation. 'It is your fault that Malfoy is now in the hospital wing!'

A vein throbbed dangerously near Snape's temple. Hermione missed it.

'Miss Granger, be quiet.'

Snape's voice was silent, but it was so deadly the hairs on her arms stood up. With difficulty, she closed her mouth.

'Don't you think,' Snape hissed, slowly advancing on her, 'that I have thought about all that? Are you under the impression that I don't _know _what my curse did?'

'But you made no move to prevent it! This is your –'

'Don't you dare say this is my fault,' Snape snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously. 'It was Potter that used an unknown curse on an enemy in his foolishness, it was Potter who trusted a ruffled old Potions book!'

She could feel her cheeks begin to redden with anger. 'You can't blame this on Harry! He's only –'

'A child? Why then, Miss Granger, so are you. And it isn't your place to question my actions.'

'It is if they are so obviously wrong!'

They stood nose to nose now, and Snape looked angrier than ever, but she wouldn't be the first to back down. It was high time she told him the truth.

She breathed in sharply and looked at him scrutinizingly. 'Why didn't you take the book from him?'

Snape looked back coldly. 'It was not my place to.'

'Not your place to?' she spat. 'Well, then whose place was it?'

'No one's. I judged that Potter should be left to his own actions.'

'But you knew it was dangerous!' The accusation was back in her voice.

Snape passed a hand over his eyes.

'Think, Miss Granger. I might have been able to prevent this from happening, but then Potter wouldn't have learned anything at all. If I had taken the book from him, Mister Malfoy would be unharmed, yes. But Potter would have fallen for the same trick again. He would have been stupid enough to trust a handwritten curse for the second time. And, perhaps, the next time things wouldn't have turned out so well.'

Snape looked at her intently and something finally clicked inside her mind. It was almost too impossible to believe, but Snape had yet again protected Harry while seeming like he hadn't.

She leaned back against the door, her legs suddenly feeling weak.

'You protected him.'

It wasn't really a question, but Snape answered anyway.

'Yes,' he said, a malicious glint still present in his eyes. She'd be lucky to get away without punishment.

Well, if she was going to be punished anyway, she might as well earn it.

'You're a git.'

Snape looked as though he had been slapped. His expression would have been quite comical, were it not for the fact that this was _Snape_. She was vaguely surprised to see the response that her comment elicited. She'd thought that Snape was reasonably used to being called a git.

'Excuse me?'

'A git. You're a git.'

She'd really done it this time. Snape seemed to pull himself up and she was once again aware of the fact that he towered over her. His expression was murderous.

'I think, Miss Granger, that a detention is in order.'

*****

Three hours later, she had at last managed to finish cleaning every single one of Snape's cauldrons. The skin on her fingertips was wrinkled from holding a wet sponge for much too long, and every single muscle in her arm hurt. She didn't think she'd ever be gladder to leave Snape's office than she was now.

'Sir, I'm finished,' she directed at his back. Snape didn't look up from the essays he was marking.

'Fine. You may leave.'

She threw the sponge into the nearest cauldron and stood up shakily. She dragged herself towards the door, not daring to wonder how long Snape had kept her in his office. She threw one last look over her shoulder as she slipped out of the door. Snape was still marking the essays, his nose so close to the table that it almost touched the parchment.

'And sir?'

'You'd do better to get out, Miss Granger, before I decide to punish you more severely.'

He still hadn't looked up.

'Thank you for helping Harry.'

The door fell shut behind her.

* * *

AN: Short, I know, especially considering the time it took me to post this, and for that I apologize. I also apologize for how boring this chapter is. Next chapter, we'll make a jump in time, and that'll hopefully both be longer and more interesting.

I participated in the National Novel Writing Month again this year (wwwDOTnanowrimoDOTorg - basically, you write a 50 000 word novel in a month) and I wrote HG/SS fanfiction. I'm not sure whether I should post it, though. Would you, my audience, be interested in reading another story by me? The big pro of this novel would be that it's already written, and as such it should take less time to update.

Thanks for reading, and, possibly, reviewing!


	9. Change

_Chapter Nine_

It was early on a Monday morning that she realized that there was an inexplicable sense of change in the air.

The halls were unusually chilly, the students and teachers looked pale and worn-out, Dumbledore was nowhere to be found for the better part of the time and the Slytherins had stopped jeering at the Gryffindors.

Draco Malfoy, having quickly recovered from Harry's curse, was more often than not absent at mealtimes, making Harry even more convinced that he was up to something. Harry himself spent most of his free time staring at the Marauder's Map, in a futile search of the tiny dot that depicted Malfoy.

Snape appeared to be constantly on the edge. Just like Malfoy, he had made a habit of missing meals. When he did emerge from the dungeons, it was only to subtract points from daring Gryffindors and frightened Hufflepuffs. Though he still sneered at Harry whenever the opportunity arose, it no longer seemed to entertain him.

There was a sense of change in the air, and Hermione didn't like it one bit.

It didn't help that she was more and more frequently plagued by nightmares featuring masked men in cloaks, high pitched laughter and jets of green light. Only too often she woke up in the middle of the night, barely able to stifle a scream at the recollection of a killing curse and a falling man. She was certain that her nightmares were closely linked with the feeling of anxiety that was creeping over the castle.

When she showed up for her Occlumency lesson the next Thursday, it was only to find Snape sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. She was mildly surprised that he hadn't even noticed her entrance – it was not like him. She coughed softly to alert him to her presence, and his head snapped up.

'Miss Granger,' he bit at her, seemingly annoyed that she had managed to catch him off-guard.

'I'm here for my lesson, Professor.'

He rose from his chair. 'I know that, Miss Granger.'

'Sorry,' she muttered, fidgeting with her wand. She made a mental note not to get on Snape's bad side tonight.

'Look at me,' he said, and she looked up. 'Legilimens.'

She'd been expecting the attack, and as such she was able to quickly and swiftly block him and throw him out of her mind. Even now she was surprised at the easiness with which this was possible – practice really did make perfect.

She looked back at Snape fiercely, half expecting him to launch another attack on her mind.

He didn't look like he'd be doing any such thing.

Snape stood bent over a little, his fingers curled around the edge of the desk. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his skin had assumed a sickly pallor. For a moment she thought he might faint before her very eyes. Then he looked up.

'That was ... very good.'

She blinked surprisedly. As far as she knew, Snape had never told a Gryffindor something they had done was 'very good'. She faintly wondered if Snape's sudden praise had anything at all to do with the fact that he looked close to collapsing.

'Thank you, sir,' she said, only a little unsteadily.

Snape's fingers closed tighter around the edge of his desk.

'I don't believe that any more lessons will be ... necessary.'

'You think I've mastered Occlumency?' she asked, slightly awed.

'Quite.'

A bead of sweat rolled down Snape's forehead. He looked ill.

'Are you all right?' She took a minute step forwards. Snape's fingers curled even more tightly around the desk.

'Much as I appreciate your concern, I am perfectly fine, Miss Granger.'

'Are you certain, Professor?' she inquired, stepping closer still. 'I could get Madam Pomfrey for you.'

'I am fine, Miss Granger,' he snapped. 'You'd do well to get back to –'

His breathing stocked and he began to falter backwards, his grip on the desk loosening. She had reached him in a second. Gripping him firmly under the elbow, she guided him down into the chair.

'Miss Granger, I do believe I told you I was fine,' he said when he'd caught his breath. Despite the obviously reprimanding nature of the words, Snape didn't sound very annoyed. He sounded more ... tired?

'Well, you clearly aren't,' she said, regarding him critically. 'I'm fetching Madam Pomfrey.'

'You will do no such thing.'.

'You're obviously not well,' she decided, planting her hands in her sides. 'If you don't want me to fetch Madam Pomfrey, I'll get Professor Dumbledore.'

Snape shook his head. The beads of sweat on his forehead glistened in the light of the candles. She sighed exasperatedly.

'Then what _do _you want me to do?'

Snape scrutinized her for a moment, and she briefly thought he'd try to dismiss her again. Then he raised a trembling hand and pointed at something behind her.

'In the cabinet. Invigoration Draught.'

She headed towards the cabinet and opened the doors, thankful that Snape hadn't locked it.

'Invigoration Draught is not a permanent solution,' she said sternly as she pushed aside some other Potions. 'If you're really ill, you're going to require medical attention.'

Snape only grunted.

Her fingers closed around the bottle labelled 'Invigoration Draught' and she took it from the cabinet. She uncorked the bottle and walked back to Snape, uncertain whether she should pour it into his mouth.

Snape, as though having read her thoughts, snatched the bottle from her hands and swallowed its contents.

The effect was immediate. Though Snape was still pale, some of the sickly hue had vanished from his face and she noticed his hands were shaking considerably less when he put down the bottle. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

'Good. Now let's get you to bed.'

Snape scowled at her. 'Excuse me?'

'You don't honestly expect me to allow you to walk about after this, do you?' she inquired, frowning.

'You are out of line, Miss Granger,' Snape snarled. 'You will go back to your dormitory now.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'If you send me away now, I will tell Professor Dumbledore about this.'

Snape looked as though she had slapped him, and, truth be told, she was shocked herself at her sudden daring leap. _I blackmailed a Professor. Oh Merlin, I blackmailed a Professor._

Snape's jaw clenched. 'Fine, Miss Granger, you have me under your control.'

'Good,' she said, trying not to let her nervousness get to her. 'I will escort you back to your rooms and then you will sleep.'

Snape looked positively murderous at the prospect of being escorted back to his rooms and being put to bed, but he gave a tight nod anyway. She tried her best not to gape at him. Why was Snape so desperate not to let Dumbledore find out about his predicament?

Snape had already begun to cross the office, heading for a door she hadn't noticed before. She presumed it provided a shortcut to his rooms and hurried after him.

She reached Snape just in time to hear him mutter something under his breath, and the door swung open. He strode through and she quickly followed, trying not to show her curiosity too much. Snape's rooms had long been a favourite subject of the Gryffindor students – the general belief was that it was dark and filled with poisons and evil objects.

Reality was much more boring. Snape's rooms were plain, generic and empty. His living room, which they had just entered, looked more like a hotel room than anything. She wondered how he could stand living somewhere so ... _impersonal_.

Snape had already disappeared through a second door and she hastened after him.

His bedroom was equally plain as the living room, the only furniture being a wardrobe, a bed and a chair. The only things out of the ordinary were a black piece of fabric (a cloak?) that seemed to have haphazardly been thrown onto the chair, and an object that was lying on the floor next to Snape's bed. As Snape rummaged through his wardrobe, she bent, picked up the object and turned it around.

Her gasp must have alerted Snape, for he rapidly spun around and drew his wand. When he realized what had happened he looked at her accusingly and lowered his wand before turning back to the wardrobe.

The mask slipped from her fingers and fell onto the floor with a dull thud.

Snape had finished rummaging through the wardrobe and closed the doors with a flick of his wand. He looked at her expectantly, and when she did nothing he siged irritatedly.

'If you don't mind, Miss Granger, I'd like to change. Unless of course you've decided to give up on this ridiculous mission of yours.'

She scrambled up and turned her back to Snape, her face flushed and her mind still clouded over with memories of nightmares.

'Miss Granger.'

'Yes?' she asked, not looking around.

'What do you think you're doing?' he snarled.

'Letting you change.' It came out a lot more confident than she felt.

She could feel Snape's gaze burning in her back, but he said nothing. Perhaps he had remembered her earlier threat and feared she might fetch Dumbledore.

'You may turn around, Miss Granger.'

'What? Have you changed your clothes already?' she exlaimed incredulously.

She could almost _feel _Snape's exasperation. 'I am a wizard, Miss Granger, as you would do well to remember.'

'Sorry.'

She spun around. Snape had exchanged his voluminious black robes for a plain grey pair of pyjama pants and a shirt. It made him look much more human – and who would have thought Snape would have a reasonably nice body underneath all those robes?

Snape mistook her surprise for disapproval and scowled at her while seeking the support of the bedpost.

'Staring is very unbecoming, Miss Granger.'

She rapidly tore her eyes away from Snape's outfit, trying simultaneously not to show her embarassment at being caught gaping.

'All right then,' she said awkwardly. 'I'll go back to my dormitory now.'

She was already halfway out of the room when he called her back.

'Miss Granger, if you wouldn't mind ...'

She turned on her heels. Snape was still holding on to the bedpost. Her eyes drifted to his legs and she saw that it was no wonder he needed the support – he was positively shaking. The effects of the Invigoration Draught were probably beginning to wear off. Snape made an impatient noise and she realized she was staring again.

'Of course,' he said sneeringly, 'if you'd prefer to just stand there and indulge in my embarassment –'

She rushed towards him. Snape gripped her arm tightly with his free hand and allowed her to guide him to the bed. After a lot of effort Snape was finally sitting on the edge of his bed, looking every bit as bad as he had before taking the Invigoration Draught.

'I still think Madam Pomfrey should check up on you,' she said sternly.

'And I think you need to learn to listen, Miss Granger,' Snape spat, lifting his legs onto the bed. 'I've told you more than often enough that I don't require help.'

Hermione privately disagreed with that, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. Instead she pulled the blanket up to Snape's chin and began smoothing out the creases. It was only when she caught Snape's mortified gaze that she realized what she was doing. She quickly let go of the blanket.

'Right,' she mumbled, looking away. 'I should probably leave now.'

'Please do.'

She quickly escaped from the room, hoping that the red spots on her cheeks weren't too noticeable.

* * *

AN: I took some liberties with the use of Invigoration Draught - I don't believe the books mention its exact purpose.

AN2: I know Snape wears a nightshirt in canon, but I just couldn't bring myself to do that. x)


End file.
